


Vincent's Turk Days

by Alurax



Series: Vincent Valentine [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Before Hojo fucks shit up, F/M, Gen, M/M, OCs - Freeform, Turk vincent, Turks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2002-07-18
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alurax/pseuds/Alurax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of oneshots and short stories from Vincent's days in the Turks, so it'll most likely be continuously uncomplete.  Many OCs.  I give him friends, and they're too awesome not to be mentioned.  Very likely Non-canon, but oh well.</p><p>Technically first in the series, but you can read them in any order you'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

Grimoire was sitting at the table in the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the diploma in his hands. The ShinRa insignia continued to catch his attention from the corner of the parchment. He could still feel that sink in his heart as his son's name was called, and announced that he would be joining the Turks, after graduation. Proud, yes, but sad all the same. He and Vincent had been all alone since he was young. His son was his whole world and now he was leaving. Who knew what would be held in the future for such a dangerous career? It'd started as just a childhood dream, one Grimoire never expected the bright-eyed boy to follow through with.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the wall, and shook his head. "Seems I'm not the only one who can't sleep."

Vincent was behind him, and laughed a bit at the situation. "Although I suppose it's not for the same reason."

Grimoire sighed deeply. "That's for sure."

The slender boy wrapped his arms around his father's neck, glancing down at the certificate in his hands. "Does it worry you that much?"

"Of course. You can't blame me for worrying."

Vincent slid into the seat next to him.

"You're only seventeen, Vincent. Do you really think it's a good idea to be getting into this at such a young age?"

Vincent laughed lightly. "It's a little late now, Dad. I'm leaving tomorrow for training."

"Don't remind me."

"It seems I have to, or you won't take me."

"See. You still need your father to drive you around, you don't need to be getting yourself into this." Grimoire protested, trying not to crush the diploma, in his hands.

Vincent shook his head. "You're being ridiculous."

"I have every right to be. It's my job to protect you, and any cost. Even if it means you think I'm and idiot."

Vincent rolled his head over to send a cock-eyed look towards his father. "But, they said I've got real talent; that I could be great. Do you really want to hinder me?"

Grimoire groaned, slamming the diploma closed. "I suppose not." He rubbed his eyes in frustrated exhaustion. "But I also don't want to lose my only son."

"You won't lose me. Besides, they assign partners, so I won't be alone."

"I know."

Vincent smiled, leaning over the table, "Then what's the problem?"

"The problem." He yawned, "the hoblem ih da I yahha"…. He was still yawning

Blank stare.

"You heard me."

"Are you tired?" Vincent asked in a bemused sarcasm.

"No, but you are. Now get to bed. You've got a big day tomorrow."

Vincent rubbed a chill from his bare arm. "I was just finishing up my packing. Thought I could use a break, then I saw the light."

"Oh… well finish up and get some sleep. Can't have you tired for training, now can we?"

"I suppose not." He smiled slightly, looking down. "Guess I'd better finish then." Vincent stood sliding on arm around his father's neck, who in turn wrapped his around his son's head. "Good-night, Dad"

"Night, Vincent."

Vincent left, heading on upstairs to his room. Grimoire groaned, scratching his head. He still vividly remembered the day Vincent told him he wanted to join the Turks. He was so young, that Grimoire had hoped Vincent would have forgotten about it, by the time he was old enough. Guess that ship had sailed. Grimoire dropped his head onto the table, propped up by his arm. "Why me?"

xXx

After having to rush out, from over sleeping, Vincent and Grimoire arrived at the train station in Midgar, preparing to depart. Vincent grabbed his bags, and slammed the trunk closed, taking off.

"VINCENT, WAIT!"

He spun back, "What? The trains about to leave."

Grimoire zipped up the duffel bag in his hands and slid it onto his son's shoulder.

"Oh, thanks."

Grimoire threw his arms around his son, squeezing him tightly. Vincent hugged him back, figuring it'd be better not to point out that there wasn't time.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, dad."

Grimoire pushed him back, squeezing his shoulder. "You take care of yourself, now"

"I will."

Grimoire hugged him again, trying not to cry. He sniffed, finally letting him go. "Alright, get outta here."

"Ok" Vincent spun around, and took off, waving back to his father. "BYE, DAD. SEE YOU AT CHRISTMAS."

Grimoire waved back, his heart shattering. "BYE VINCENT." He swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his eyes actually starting to tear up. "Be safe."

Vincent threw his bags into the luggage racks, boarding the train. He took his seat, waving to his father once more, as the train pulled out of the station. Grimoire took a deep breath, watching the train retreat into the distance. He was so excited for all of this. That boy had no idea what he was getting into.

xXx

The train ride was uneventful, Vincent's mind racing with thoughts of what was ahead. Adrenaline building till he was, finally, able to get off. They gathered for some kind of orientation, before all new recruits were dismissed.

All new recruits were assigned to small dorm-like rooms, until they were full-fledged Turks. Vincent slid the card-key into the door, and entered. There was already someone in the room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, next to the far wall, was a guy fiddling with a bunch of wires and some metal contraption. He had wild, orange hair, and brown eyes, which followed him to the other bed, before returning to the odd object in his hands. Vincent placed his duffel bag on the bed, proceeding to open it.

"What's your name?"

He jumped with hearing the other man speak. "Er, uh V-Vincent. Vincent Valentine."

He waved a half-assed salute. "Charmed."

Vincent thought to ask his name, but a more impending inquiry pressed on his mind. "How did you get up here so fast?"

The man's eyebrows arched up slightly, but his eyes stayed fixed on his work. "Huh? Whatcha mean? I've been here since noon."

Vincent stared at him puzzled. "The Train arrived at noon. What about orientation?"

He bit at one of the wires, lodging it in place. "Didn't go."

"What?" Vincent sat on the bed. "But we're supposed to go."

"Eh, I've already been." He waved a hand at him. "Plus, my big bro's been a Turk for 3 years now. I already know all the rules."

"… I suppose that makes sense. What are you working on?"

He grinned, holding it up proudly. "It's a bomb."

Vincent went pale. "Bomb?"

"Yea. Strike brought it back, from a mission, for me to play with. I've always liked tinkering with stuff like this." He saw his roommate's expression and laughed. "Calm down. I disarmed the detonator way before you came in."

So many more questions ran through Vincent's brain, but the one to come out was, "Is Strike your brother?"

"Yup." There was a small spark as one of the wire sprang out. "Crap."

Vincent smirked. "So, what's your name?"

The red-haired man's brows lowered in confusion. "Didn't I say?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh." He wiped the grease off on his pants, holding the hand out to Vincent. "Shane Ruma."

"I see." Vincent moved from the bed and shook his hand. "Good to meet you Shane." He promptly had to wipe off some residual grease that had transferred to his own hand.

"Back at cha."

Vincent couldn't help but smile. He had such a strange speech pattern. Vincent folded his legs onto the bed, starting to unpack his bag.

"You a good shot with that?"

Vincent glanced up, from his bag. How did he know he had a gun strapped to his back. It was hidden under his jacket. He technically wasn't supposed to have any weapons at orientation, but his father insisted he carry a pistol at all times, and showed him ways to hide it.

Shane smirked. "Don't look so surprised. My bro's partner's a sharp shooter. I know how to spot a harness, even when it's hidden."

Vincent's eyes lowered a touch. "I'd say I'm pretty good. My father started teaching me to shoot, when I was seven."

Shane nodded, his lips taking a sort of bemused/impressed formation. "Wow, that's pretty young."

"Well, I wanted to join the Turks, ever since I was little." Vincent sighed. "I think he was hoping I would forget. Either way, he figured it'd be a good skill for me to learn."

"Your dad a good shot?"

A swell of pride flowed through Vincent. "One of the best. He can hit a fly right out of the air, at 20 yards."

"That seems kind of mean. Why shoot a poor fly?"

Vincent paused. That wasn't the response he was expecting. His face flushed lightly. "I didn't say he does, just said he could."

"Well, how do ya know he can, if he never has?"

Vincent thought on that, for a bit. "He threw a rock at a bee once, that was going to sting me."

Even the sounds of tinkering stopped in a brief silence. Shortly, Shane started laughing. "I suppose that's pretty cool." After looking around a bit Shane kicked his feet over the side of the bed, to retrieve a tool that had fallen onto the ground. He propped a hand on his hip, turning to Vincent, still chuckling. "Well, if you're half as good as your old man, I'd say you're gonna be just fine, Vince."

Vincent's face lowered. "It's Vincent."

Shane groaned, flopping back down onto the bed. "Oh no, you're one of those."

xXx

He wasn't technically a rookie yet. More like a 'Rookie-in-Training' at this stage in his career. The next few weeks, was the start of their training to try and see who was worthy of being called a Rookie-Turk. An elimination round, no matter how you look at it. In just a few short months, the dozens of recruits would be gone, weeding out the best of the best for even the honor to be called 'rookie'.

It was no easy task to deal with some of these trials and courses. Even our golden boy, Vincent, was having a hard time getting through. His practical scores were top notch, but when it came to actually implementing them, he greatly lacked in both skill and precision. The trainers were strict, and constantly yelling at recruits for screwing up. A couple of them even broke down into tears. They must have quit, because no one saw them again after that.

Vincent knew it was going to be difficult, but he wasn't expecting this. His grades in the classes was one of the main things saving him now. That, and one other skill he was never worried about – Marksmanship.

Even though most chose not to use it, every Turk was required to at least know how to handle a gun. Some could even excel at such a feat. They called back the targets, and Vincent couldn't help but be proud when he did. One scraping the center, three more around the center ring, and two looping each other on the inner edge of the third.

"You'd think the son of Dr. Valentine would have better aim." A man with long black hair, pulled back in some kinda cloth, set up a target next to him. Some blonde guy, on the other side of Vincent, seemed to take more offense to this than he did. "What are you talking about? Vincent's amazing." The man turned to him, revealing some kind of black diamond marking on either side of his right eye, making its slate blueish-grey color stand out. "So you're Vincent?"

"Yes sir." He recognized him as being one of the superior members. It also seemed as though he knew him from somewhere else... but where? "How did you know who my father was?"

"You look just like him." He held out a hand, for Vincent to give him the gun. The senior Turk re-loaded the chamber, and fired off 6 rounds at the target. "Too bad you can't shoot like him." The target returned, and he handed it, and the gun, back to Vincent. "If you want to learn how to aim properly, look me up."

He turned and marched off, down the sidelines, scooping out some of the other shooters. The blonde guy (He believed was named Terry) looked down at the target, and scoffed. "What's he acting so high and mighty about? He only hit the target one time. Who cares if it was dead center?"

Vincent glanced down at the paper, to see what he was talking about, only to have his breath freeze in his chest. Indeed, there was only one hole, but that didn't mean anything. The hole was singed, more than usual. It was bigger than the size of bullets that gun held.

He had hit the exact same place each time.

Vincent looked up again, but the Turk was gone.

xXx

"You do know who that was, right?" Shane was standing on top of his bed, putting stuff up on the top of the closet.

Vincent was sitting down, on his bed, the target in his hand. That was the biggest thing that was bugging him. He did know how from somewhere, but couldn't remember how. "Not really. Who is he?"  
Shane laughed, bouncing off the bed. "His name's Renuichi Jonas. Tho most people just call him Ren. He's my brother's partner. A bit crazy." He stopped, looking up towards the ceiling. "No, not crazy... he's 'eccentric'." Shane even had to do the air quotes. "but he's a nice guy."

Vincent glanced down at the target, before laying it down on the dresser. He definitely got a good dose of humble pie. "He's pretty good."

"Good? Dude, Ren's one of the best. It's something that he even noticed you."

Vincent flushed, pulling out the still half-unpacked duffel bag. "I suppose." He started to pull the items out, putting them away in drawers.

Shane folded his legs, almost in mid-air, falling down onto his bed. "So you're Doctor V's kid, huh?"

Vincent stopped, then shifted his eyes over towards him. "Dr. V?" He'd never heard anyone refer to his father that way. "How do you know my father?"

"I don't." He stated off-handedly, rubbing his chin. "How did I not see that?"

Vincent rolled his eyes back to his bag, until his hand found something he didn't remember packing. "What's this?" Vincent picked up a small red box, with a bow, from a mix the rubble of his bag.

Shane's curiosity was sparked, and he leapt off the bed, flopping down on Vincent's. "What's what?"  
"Must be from my father." He opened the box, to find another box inside. This one had a black, velvet casein.

Shane tried to restrain a laugh. "Daddy got ya a ring?"

Vincent just stared for a brief moment. "He didn't." He opened the case, a brief silence followed, then broke with an uproar of laughter.

Shane leapt from the bed, caught off guard by his roommate's hysteria.

(Flashback xXx Time)

"Hey, Vincent." Grimoire called, crossing into the room, where his son was reading through The Outsiders. (It was technically an assigned reading for class, but he actually enjoyed the story, so decided to read on ahead of the class.) "What's your favorite animal?"

"I don't know." Vincent answered, with a shrug, not even bothering to look up from his book. "Dogs are pretty cool." In between flipping pages, his free hand lazily stroked Keri's ear; the black lab, that was laying her head on his knee. Keri seemed to understand what he'd said, and pushed her head up into his hand, with a small ruff.

"Dogs, huh?" Grimoire strolled over and sat down in the chair, scribbling something into a notebook.

Vincent took a second to find his place on the page, then forgot about it, looking up towards his father. "Why do you ask?"

Grimoire shrugged. "I was just thinking." He seemed a bit lost in what he was doing.

"About what?"

"Well." He flipped through the small notebook, in his hands. "I got a letter from the president the other day."

Vincent closed the book, feeling slightly worried. "Anything wrong?"

"Oh no, nothing's wrong. Just the normal bulletins and crap I really don't care about. Anyway, I was staring at the envelope; you know, how they seal it with a wax imprint of the ShinRa logo, and was thinking that we should have a family crest."

Vincent wasn't fully sure how to register this information. He stared blankly, at his father, giving him a slow blink. "Why?"

"Why not?"

Vincent sighed, laying the book against his lap. Keri realized he'd stopped petting her, and lifted her head up to look at him. "Aren't family crests something that important families have?"

"There's nothing that says this is true. Besides, who's to say, we're not important?"

"Well, for one thing, the Valentine blood line isn't of noble birth."

"We are as noble as we need to be."

Vincent's eyes narrowed slightly. "There's only two of us."

"Every family starts somewhere. When you have kids, the line will surely continue until our names go down in history. " He held out a hand, as if making a proclamations. "You'll see."

Deciding that he'd get back to petting her eventually, Keri settled her head into Vincent's lap again.

Vincent rolled his eyes back to his book, scanning the page again to find where he had left off. "It's pointless."

Grimoire shrugged. "I'm still going to design one. Then we can be fancy, when we write letters to each other too."

Vincent was trying very hard not to shake his head at his father's absurdity.

(xXx)

Five years later, Vincent was staring down at the ring glinting back at him, from the black box. The face of it had an almond shaped stone; a deep red garnet, which Vincent assumed was to represent the trait of their blood line being their red eyes. The bezel connected to a cast of what looked like a three headed dog, made in silver, stretched over the deep set stone. It had a fairly wide band, with a large V engraved into both sides.

There was a small note that came out as he plucked the ring from its box:

" _I know Cerberus is supposed to protect the underworld, but maybe he can protect you too. If nothing else, he can kick you out, if you try to die on me. Take care of yourself, and call me, when you can. Good luck._

_Love, Dad."_

Vincent detached the note, sliding the ring onto the middle finger, of his right hand. It actually fit pretty securely, not interfering with any motion as he flexed his fingers. (How his father knew his ring size, was up for debate.) Vincent smiled, shaking his head slowly. "Sometimes, I can't believe the things my father will do."


	2. The Mentor

They had perused months of hard training. Endurance, accuracy, stealth, everything a growing Turk would have to know to survive out in the harsh world. Soon the time was approaching for Vincent and his fellow Rookies to be thrown out into the field. To get their first taste of real action.

While most of the others seemed to be growing in excitement for their oncoming missions, Vincent was starting to feel nervous. Not from the dangers he believed he would soon be facing, but for the tasks that would be thrown onto another. When a Rookie is finally ready to be out in the field, he is assigned to a senior team to help show him the ropes of what was truly expected of him, and even how to approach certain tasks. In short, how to be a fully prepared field agent.

He never truly warmed up to people, the only one he was seeming to really know was a fellow rookie named Shane Ruma. Course, that was only because he was rooming with him in their barracks. Vincent didn't want to think about what kind of team he would get stuck with, but he did have an idea of who he would like. Granted, it sounded a little selfish, but he felt like no other would do.

A group of the senior Turks made their way through the square, and he saw him. A tall slender man, harboring a long black ponytail, trailing neatly past his shoulders. The very sight of him was truly wondrous to behold. He had admired this man, even before entering the Turks, but that admiration had grown into a deep respect, since he had joined.

Finally, Vincent came to a decision. He closed the book in his hands, and made his way over. Walking up behind the group, Vincent saluted to their backs. "Jonas, Sir."

The man turned around, a quizzical expression on his face. The confusion soon melted into a smile. "Valentine." He walked over, the other seniors watching with growing curiosity. Jonas waved a hand to him. "At ease."

Vincent brought his hand down, folding his arms behind his back, though still very alert and formal.

Jonas stopped in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, what do you need?"

Vincent hesitated slightly, taking a breath to prepare for what he was going to do. "I wish to ask a favor, Sir."

He cocked a brow at him. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Vincent puffed out his chest in steeling his nerve. "I humbly request to serve under your tutelage... Sir."

Jonas' smile faded into a smirk, the other seniors letting out a group 'ooh', as if themselves shocked... or amused. It was rather hard to tell

"You wish for me to be your mentor." He stated, as if to clarify what he was hearing.

"Yes, Sir."

Jonas folded his arms behind his back, walking closer to Vincent. "And why is that?"

Vincent kept his eyes forward, wondering if he should watch him as he started to circle. "Your skills are admirable. I simply wish to be trained by the best."

Some of the other seniors jeered, but Jonas stopped in front of him, holding a hand to his chest. "That's kind of you, but I'm afraid flattery will get you nowhere."

Vincent felt his face start to heat up. "I did not mean it to flatter you, Sir. I was simply stating my observation."

By now, even some in his own level were starting to gather around to watch the show.

"Well, I admire your honesty, Vincent."

Vincent started a bit, from hearing the familiarity of his name.

"I must say, this is highly unethical, but it's noble of you to make such a request." His eyes almost took on a sort of pitying expression. "Though, I'm afraid I don't have the authority to grant your request."

There was a slight deflation in Vincent's demeanor. He hadn't even considered that as being an option.

"However." Jonas turned away, starting to circle around him again. "I do have a good rapport with Kai. So, there's a chance that a word from me could sway his decision."

There was a new found hope, until Jonas stopped in front of him, smirking again. "That being said, it will not be so easy. You must first prove yourself to me."

Vincent settled back into ease. He'd been expecting something like this. "I'm up for anything you ask."

Jonas' grin just spread into a slightly wicked expression. He leaned in closer, to where only Vincent could hear him. "I have a secret."

Confused, Vincent glanced over at him, but Jonas just continued to smile. "Figure out what it is."

With no further explanation, he turned back towards his fellow Turks and they started to walk off. "Oh, and Vincent." He waved a hand, glancing back.

Vincent stood at attention again. "Yes, Sir?"

"Loosen up a bit, or else your string's gonna snap."

They continued on, the rest of the Seniors laughing.

Vincent deflated, once they were out of sight, feeling a bit lost. "Figure out his secret?"

"Whoa, Vin. You got balls." Shane crooned, throwing an arm around his room mate's shoulder. "Going straight up to Ren, and asking that." He chucked him in the arm, running a hand through his flaming hair. "I think I wet myself, when he first spoke to me."

Vincent gave him a disapproving look. "You did?"

"Nope." He turned around, and started off, his hands laced behind his head. "Still, he can be pretty scary. Guess that's what experience does to ya."

"I suppose so."

In an upper window, Ren Jonas watched his potential protege, an almost fatherly expression on his face.

"I can't tell if you're being far too nice, or if you're an evil master mind."

"The rookie, intrigues me, is all." Ren addressed his partner, without even looking at him. A tall broad man, with bright red hair, and a scar streaked down his left cheek. He had been reprimanded before for the state of his hair, and the multiple piercings in his ear, but nobody cared to try and enforce it, anymore. "I've seen him in training, and he has real potential. Besides-" Ren glanced up at Strike, the fatherly expression turning a bit sinister. "I prefer to think of myself as chaotically good."

Strike laughed openly, then turned to look down at the two rookies. Shane seemed to still be giving Vincent a hard time. "Let's just hope he can make it through your little test."

"Only time will tell." Ren stood up straight, stretching out his back. He still kept his eyes on Vincent, as they faded out of sight. "I just hope he learns to let go a bit, or else it won't matter how skilled he is. This job will eat him alive."

Strike snorted, falling against the wall, hands sliding in his pockets. "I wouldn't worry so much. As long as he's got a Ruma by his side, it's inevitable."

Ren gave his partner a cock-eyed smirk. "That's what untied my knot."

Laughing again, Strike pushed off the wall, throwing an arm around Ren's shoulders to lead him away. "That's certainly true.

xXx

"How on Gaia, am I going to figure out his secret?" Vincent mulled to himself, laying awake in his bed.

"Will you stop asking me that? For the 50th time, I don't know."

Vincent sneered at Shane, through the dark. "I wasn't asking you."

"Then keep it to yourself. Some of us are trying to sleep." Shane yawned, rolling over in bed, then pulled the covers over his head.

Vincent rolled his eyes, soon turning them back towards the ceiling. This task seemed to be getting harder and harder the more he thought about it. Ren was a trained Turk. One of the best. If he didn't want anyone to find out something, then how could he, barely a rookie, figure out what it is? There's no way spying on him could work. Ren was a sharp shooter. His eyes were honed to any kind of movement within a hundred yard radius. Ok, granted that was probably an exaggeration, but there was still a chance it wasn't. Even so, spying on him may not do any good, because he didn't know if it was a secret he was keeping for current events, or something from his past. If the later were true, he certainly was doomed to never find out.

Vincent sighed. This was seeming more and more hopeless, the more he thought about it. The point further driven home by the knowledge that the Rookies would be assigned their teams in little less than two months. That didn't give much time for any serious recon. I guess the only thing he can do is try surveillance and see what he can gather. He'd have to be careful not to let Ren know what he's up to, or else he will know to hide it better. He could do that... right?

"Alright, the sighing is getting even more annoying than the talking." He heard Shane roll over, and saw the vague outline of him looking over at him, from the street light out the window. "Do you want me to help you? I mean, my brother IS his partner."

Vincent considered this for a bit. He knew that teamwork was a huge part of the job. That being said, he knew that he was supposed to prove himself to Ren on his own. It may not count if he accepts outside help. "No. I have to do this on my own."

Shane scoffed. "Suit yourself. Until then, you better get some sleep. It's not good to do recon when you're tired. You might miss some details."

Vincent hummed in agreement. "You have a point."

"Good to know. Now, good night." There was an overemphasized swoosh of the covers, and Shane had rolled back over and fell asleep.

Vincent watched the lump for a bit, finally dozing off, with his mind reeling in confusion as to what his next move was going to be.

xXx

Over the next few weeks, Vincent had spent nearly all of his free time following Ren around, and observing his behavior. Hoping he could pick up some kind of clue as to what this illustrious secret might be. As far as he could tell, he wasn't even hiding anything.

He really didn't give a lick if Ren saw him or not, though most of the time he wasn't even made aware if he did notice his rookie shadow.

Course there was the one time, when Vincent lost sight of him. He only found him because Ren had managed to sneak up behind him, and whispered in his ear, "Try being a little less obvious."

Vincent nearly screamed, whipping around towards him. Ren smirked, sauntering off. "I'll give you an A for effort. Although I won't take you in, if you don't figure it out."

Vincent's heart was pounding in his head, watching him go. How the hell could he sneak around so quietly? Was it the shoes? Vincent glanced down at his standard Turk shoes. They shouldn't be any different. Maybe he was a wizard? Yes, perhaps that was his deep dark... no, that was stupid.

Vincent just groaned, slumping against the wall, a hand pushing through his hair.

"No luck?"

"Afraid no-" He had thought it was Shane, coming to mock him again, but when he looked up, Vincent saw Strike towering over him. Vincent instantly straightened up, and his senior started laughing at him. "Man, you're formal. You really gotta unwind a bit, or you'll never figure anything out."

Vincent was struck silent, his voice lost, as it was still in shock. All he could manage was a clumsy, "Thank you."

Strike snorted. "Yea, sure. Here." He fished an envelope out of his pocket, and handed it to him. "Give this to Shane-O. I'd do it myself, but I don't much feel like it." He gave Vincent a sly wink, then started off. "I'm sure I'll see ya around, Squirt."

Vincent watched him a bit put-off. "Squirt?" He glanced down at the envelope, and turned it over in his hands. There was no writing on it. No name or address. Nothing. There wasn't even a chance of seeing what it said, when he held it up to the sun. Damn these experienced Turks. They don't give anything away.

xXx

Vincent skulked into his room, threw the notebook onto the side table, then slumped onto his bed, face buried in the pillow.

Shane didn't even bother to look up from the sparking contraption, in his hands. "I take that to mean, you still have no clue."

Vincent just groaned into the pillow.

"Uh huh. What's that?" Shane asked, waving a nonchalant hand in the air.

Vincent threw the letter over to him. "Your brother wanted me to give you this."

The letter drifted through the air, and Shane had to lean out a ways to catch it.

Upon hearing the ripping paper, Vincent glanced over to watch as his roommate's eyes scanned the letter. Shane's expression grew a bit worried.

"What's it say?"

"Uh." He hastily shoved the letter back in the envelope, and tucked it under his pillow. "Nothing."

Vincent just smirked. "Well, at least I can tell you're hiding something."

xXx

Ren was sitting on the couch, in his ShinRa owned flat, polishing his saxophone. Strike walked in, carrying two steaming cups of tea. He rolled his eyes at his partner. "How long are you going to polish that thing? You're nearly wearing a hole in it."

Ren just smirked. "I'm just bidding my time. Seeing if I can bore Vincent out of his mind."

"What?" Strike looked around. "The kid's here?"

"Oh, yes he is. He's been spying on us for the last hour or so."

"Huh. Well, where is he?" Strike settled onto the couch, taking a sip of his tea.

"He's up in that tree, just outside the window."

"Really now?" He looked around towards the window, glancing up at the tree. "I don't see him. How do you know he's up there?"

Ren tried not to laugh. "His watch is reflecting the moonlight."

Strike didn't even bother to hide his laughter.

"And, now it's not. He must have the place bugged too." Ren finally set down the saxophone, and plucked the other cup from the table. "Have to say, I'm getting very impressed."

"So are ya gonna throw the kid a bone, or what?"

"Now, what lesson would he learn from that? Honestly, Strike, you're far too lenient."

Strike scoffed into his cup. "Maybe so, but he needs to figure it out soon. It's kinda getting aggravating."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. We only have a couple more weeks until groups are assigned their rookies. If he hasn't figured it out by then, there's no reason for him to be so persistent."

Strike ran a hand through his hair, pulling it a bit as it left. "Two weeks, huh?"

"Yes. You can wait that long."

"Pssht, easy for you to say. You're getting some kind of sick joy out of this kid, and what do I get?"

"The knowledge that we could be getting a worthy protege?" Ren offered, with a sweet smile.

Strike just glared at him. "No. I'm getting absolutely bub-kiss."

Ren expression towards him turned a bit more serious. "I understand the aggravation, of being tailed, but you better watch yourself. Don't go saying anything to him, just because you want him to figure it out sooner. Then, he'll never learn anything."

"Yea, yea, I get it." Strike drained the rest of his tea, and stood. "Whatever, I'm going to bed."

"This early?"

"I procrastinated on my paperwork, so I gotta get up early to do it."

Ren furrowed an uncertain brow at him. "Why don't you just do it now, and then go to bed?"

Strike stopped in the doorway, then glanced back at him. "Because I'm tired now."

"But that doesn't make any sense."

"G'night, Ren." He waved a hand, and started for the bedroom. "Night, Vincent."

Ren sniggered as his partner made for his room. "Good night."

xXx

Vincent was sitting alone, in the cafeteria, eating his lunch, a pair of headphones over his ears. His time was dwindling fast. There was only four more days until it would be too late. He was poring over the recordings he had of his recon of Ren. There had to be some clue, some kind of hint in there that would give him away, but he couldn't find anything. All he could factor was that Strike knew his secret too. Although, that much had to be obvious. Partners tended to know everything about each other. It was like a well known rule that partners had to be close, in order to create the kind of kinship required to trust the other in the heat of life and death.

Vincent groaned, dropping his head into his hands. This was impossible. How was he going to get this, in time? The recording drifted away a bit. "Don't you ever take a break?"

"What?" Vincent was startled when the headphones snapped back to hit him in the face. He plucked them off in time to see Strike settle down in the seat across from him.

"Uh." Vincent clambered to pull the headphones down, and looked dumbfounded to his senior. "I-uh-can't take a break. Not until I figure this out."

Strike shook his head, laughing lightly. "Still so young. You don't seem to understand that resting is just as important as working."

"What? But I can't rest, until the issue is resolved."

"You should really listen to your superiors." Strike pushed his chair back onto two legs, resting his hands behind his head. "If you work too hard, you kill your brain. More times than not, you come up with the answer, when you're not thinking of it."

"What? That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. Haven't you even noticed that you can't find something, until you stop looking for it? Works the same way for solving problems." His grin turned a touch more vicious. "But if you seem to think it's such a pain, I can give you a small hint."

Vincent scowled at him. "No. I'm not accepting any hand outs. I need to figure this out, on my own, or I'll never prove myself worthy."

"Worthy, huh?" Strike threw his head back, laughing uproariously. "You're a trip, Kid. A good Turk never does anything alone, it's why we work in teams. You have to extract information from any source that you can, when you can." He winked at him, holding up a finger, to emphasize his point. "So, if you stop being so stubborn, I can- WHOA!"

A hand pushed down the back of his seat, causing Strike to fall backwards, tumbling onto the floor. Ren stood over him, folding his arms across his chest. "What did I tell you? No assisting the rookie."

"Oww." Strike sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "Geeze, Renny, ya don't gotta be so rough."

"Hmph, rough seems to be the only thing that gets through to you." Vincent was standing up to look over the table. He froze, as Ren turned to him, as if scolding him for daring to listen to Strike.

Wilting back, Vincent sat down, looking at his headphones. "It's not like I was accepting his help. I'm going to figure this out, on my own."

"No you won't." Vincent's head snapped up, in shock, watching as Ren started to walk off. "Come on, Strike."

Strike scrambled to his feet, rushing to catch up to him, leaving the dumbstruck rookie in his seat. He grinned proudly at his partner. "Did I do good?"

Ren laughed, smiling to himself. "Yes, you did splendidly. It's all up to his interpretation, now. If he can't figure it out, then he's not suited for this line of work."

xXx

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day they finally decided, and Vincent was starting to lose all hope. He sat there, watching the senior pair, (Not observing, just watching.) his desire to be under their tutelage nothing but a far off dream. Maybe whatever group he landed in wouldn't be so bad. Not as good as Ren and Strike, but the other Turks were fully capable at what they did, as well. All of his resources were thoroughly exhausted, and still he could not figure it out.

Vincent laid back in the grass, mulling over everything that he had seen within the past few months. A ping of guilt started to settle in his stomach. Not only was he letting himself down, but he was sure he was letting Ren down too. The senior member seemed to be setting his hopes on Vincent figuring out his secret, and the only thing he had done was just prove how useless he was.

His eyes gently closed, letting the guilt wash over him. It didn't matter how good he became, both Ren and Strike were always going to look at him as being an incompetent, hopeless little kid, who couldn't even handle his first mission. He was pathetic.

All he seemed to get from this whole experience is that those two were impossible to read. Even when talking to each other, there was some kind of cryptic language to their words. Course that could have been because they knew Vincent was watching them. There also seemed to be some kind of inclination that Strike really hated having to keep this secret. Course, he couldn't truly make sense of that. How hard can it be to keep someone else's secret. I suppose if it's something big, that you're dying to let everyone know, then maybe it'd be a pain. There was also the option that maybe it was so horribly bad that maybe Strike was doing everything he could to keep Ren out of trouble. No, that didn't make sense. If that were true, then Strike wouldn't trust, or even like him as much as he seemed to.

It could be both their secret.

Vincent's eyes snapped open, an almost literal light bulb popping before his eyes. That had to be it. Ren never said it was just his secret, alone. Perhaps they shared their secret, and Strike was just... just.

Immediately, Vincent sat up. "That's it!" He cried, eyes swinging around to where they had been. Neither Ren, Strike, nor any of the seniors were in the immediate area. Vincent got to his feet, running off to try and find them. Asking around a bit, Vincent found out that the senior members had been called into a meeting. A new spring in his step, he rushed off towards the conference room. He had the answer, he was sure of it. Dividing all the factors, the rules surrounding them, their personalities, the way they had been acting, no matter how subtle it was, he knew he had it.

By the time Vincent found the conference room, the meeting had been let out. The senior Turks were filing out of the room. Panting, Vincent scanned the men until he finally saw him. Ren was walking along, chatted animatedly with his partner.

Vincent sat watching him, finding he had lost his voice. What if he was wrong? Would he laugh? Would he be mad that he'd assumed something like that, about him? Would he give him another chance, or tell him to get lost?"

Vincent shook his head. No, he couldn't let fear of the unknown rule him. He had nothing else to lose by taking this chance. "REN!" He shouted, a bit louder than he truly meant to.

All heads swiveled in his direction, others even poking out of doorways to look at him. Vincent was still panting, his heart beating against his chest. "I- I know." He gasped, his mouth feeling dry. "I figured it out."

Small murmurs rose from some of the groups.

"Oh?" Ren's eye widened in curiosity. "Do you now?" He cast a sideways glance to his partner, who shrugged. "Well." They seemed to speak through their gaze, before Ren started for Vincent. "In that case, let's go somewhere private to discuss this." His hand fell on Vincent's back, leading him away, as Strike stayed behind to diffuse the curiosity of the group.

Ren lead Vincent into one of the interrogation rooms, pushing him towards the wall. "You need to learn a thing or two about subtlety, Rookie."

Vincent flushed, diverting his gaze. After a quick scan of the surroundings, Ren unplugged the camera, before finally turning to face Vincent. He folded his arms over his chest, eying the younger Turk. "Alright. What do you suppose it is?"

Vincent scanned his brain to try and think of a good way to say what he thought he knew. Finally, he took a deep breath, and spoke softly. "You're gay." He wrung his hands, feeling increasingly nervous. "You and Strike are h-having an affair."

He half expected him to be angry, or even show acknowledgment of some kind, but the look in his eyes neither confirmed nor denied his suspicions. "Why would you say that?"

Vincent's mind went blank. He didn't think he had to prove it, but there was a reason. What the hell was it? "Y-You um, you two are really close-"

"He's my partner. Of course we're close."

Vincent found his second wind, and shook his head. "The bond you two have goes beyond just that of a partnership. It's the type of bond one shares with a lover." The lack of confirmation in his expression, made Vincent a bit nervous again. "I-it may not be the secret you wanted me to find out, but I could see it when you were together. And- um- g-given the rules, I can see wh-why you'd want to hide it."

Ren's eyes narrowed a bit. "To what rules are you referring?"

"I, uh, the um." His face flushed deeper. "H-homosexuality is considered a weakness. Therefore, Turks aren't aloud... to be... gay." He finished, his assurance dwindling.

Ren looked him over, as if trying to see whether or not he was just grasping at straws. He was going to refuse, he knew it. That is until Ren smiled. "Are we really that obvious?"

Vincent's tension melted away, and he smiled. "Not really. I'm just that observant."

Ren laughed. "Sure ya are. Then why did you seem so unsure?"

"You, uh, you didn't say I was right, so I kinda started to assume I was wrong."

Ren shook his head. "Never doubt yourself. Though you have shown us that we need to be a bit more discreet. If you can figure it out, then we're in serious trouble."

"Well." Vincent rubbed his neck, laughing sheepishly. "It's not so much how obvious you two were, but more along the lines of Strike getting more and more frustrated. I guess you couldn't do anything, with me tailing you."

Ren laughed again. "Yea, Strike's a bit of a baby."

Vincent wrung his hands. "So, um, does that mean y-you'll take me on?"

The laughter died down, a pair of slate blue eyes, sizing him up. "Granted, we had to drop a few hints, but I suppose I can talk to Kai tomorrow. On one, condition." He squelched Vincent's growing excitement, holding a finger in his face. Vincent smiled. "I won't tell anyone."

"Good." Ren straightened up, starting to head off. "A secret's no good, when it's spread too thin, and far too many people know about it already."

Vincent smirked. "By, too many people, you mean me?"

Ren grinned back at him, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You and Shane, yea."

Vincent deflated completely, watching his superior saunter off. "Heh?"

xXx

"YOU KNEW!?" Vincent shrieked, slamming through the door into his room.

Shane didn't even bother to look up from what he was working on, and smirked. "Of course I knew. Strike's my brother." He shuddered. "Course, I don't like to think about it."

Vincent shut the door, making his way over. He slammed his hands down on Shane's desk. "You let me go through all of that, and you knew the whole time? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well." Shane laced his fingers, resting his chin on his hands as he gave his friend a very condescending look. "For one thing, you never asked." He started ticking off on his fingers. "Two, you were so dead set on figuring it out yourself, that I couldn't interfere, and thirdly-" He went back to what he was doing. "I was threatened."

"Threatened?"

"Yea, Strike sent me that letter, saying he wouldn't give me any Christmas presents this year."

Vincent stared at him, dumbstruck. "You're kidding."

"I know, right? With all the cool shit he finds, out on those missions. It's real helpful for my projects."

Irritation setting in, Vincent rolled his eyes. "But, how did you even know, in the first place?"

It was Shane's turn to give him the look that signified crazy. He over emphasized placing his project on the desk, and cupped his hands around his mouth. "STRIKE. IS. MY. BROTHER."

Vincent growled, waving a hand at him. "I know that." He sat down on the bed, next to him. "But they're trained Turks. Just because you're his brother, doesn't mean you know everything about him."

Shane shrugged, continuing to tinker with his project again. "We're close."

"But that doesn't mean you-" Vincent groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Oh, I give up."

"Good call. So, I take it you have a new mentor?"

Vincent smiled. "I sure do."

"Wonder if I can get in the group too?"

"Pssht. I highly doubt it. It's not that simple."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Wow, haven't touched this in a while. Mainly because I didn't know where I was going with it. None of my ideas here seemed to be linear, so I just gave in and decided to do these as a series of oneshots or short stories. Now, i actually started to formulate the idea of Vincent having a mentor because Elena was tailing after Reno and Rude. And, the other three Turks sprang up from there. I can't wait to fully delve into how awesome Ren and Strike are.
> 
> And yea, I know Ren's secret was a bit cliche'd, but I hope it wasn't too obvious.


	3. Training: Chapt 1

Vincent stood squared off, with Shane, both with guns trained on each other. Eryn, a fellow rookie, lay in a crumpled heap, her already red hair darkened by the crimson flooding through the strands. Vincent's eyes lowered. "So, it was you? You're the traitor?"

Shane smirked. "I could say the same about you."

"You just shot my team-mate." Vincent growled. "She was innocent, and you killed her."

"She was acting far too suspicious. How could I not suspect her?"

"If you're not the traitor then you can't just go around – AHH!" Vincent went down with a red splatter in his back, right between the shoulder blades.

Shane spun his gun around to the balcony, shooting up at their attacker. The bullet whizzed right by Terry's ear, as he flattened himself behind the pillar, and Shane ducked for cover. He looked out at his room mate, laying limp on the ground, a red stain spreading out along his shirt. "Dammit, Terry. I knew it was you."

Terry chuckled to himself. "You had no clue." He ducked down below the railing, circling around for a better shot. Shane continued to shout back at Terry, but he knew if he retaliated, then he would know he was moving. Once around the other side, Terry lined up his shot along the edge of the railing and took aim. He had to sweep his long blonde strands out of his eyes, to get a better view and POW! Nailed the loud-mouthed rookie right in the gut.

Shane gagged on the pain, doubled over and died - very dramatically.

"Congratulations, the terrorist won!" Roxanne, one of the senior Turks stated, as she walked into the room, clapping sarcastically.

"Woohoo!" Terry called, leaping over the banister, and falling down to the ground with a loud thud.

"Ow." Vincent groaned, trying to push himself up, despite the protest in his sore shoulders. "Couldn't have aimed somewhere else, Terry?"

Terry shrugged. "I'm not supposed to be sympathetic to my victims."

"You were innocent?" Eryn scolded Shane, holding a hand to the red spot, in her hair. "You're a dick, Shane. That hurt like hell."

"Hey, you were the one acting suspicious."

"I was consulting with Vincent; making sure he was on my side."

"How was I supposed to know?"

"How about thinking before you shoot, Shane." Roxxanne scolded him as well. She was one of the senior members in charge of mentoring Shane, along with her partner, Neil. (Who was currently out on a solo mission to escort the vice president to a meeting.) Ren, Strike, and a few other mentors were joining them.

They had apparently decided to ban together in the training of their rookie charges, through a series of exercises that seemed a lot like games. The object of this exercise was to be able to strategize and sniff out a traitor. The five of them were split off into two teams, innocent, and traitor. The traitor could be one or two people, trying to kill the innocent before being detected, or killed themselves. They typically trained with air powered hand guns, with paint pellets. Not deadly, but they hurt like hell. The traitors would know who their allies were, while the innocent remained in the dark, trying to figure out who the traitors are and convince their comrades they were on their side. Obviously, the objective went over some of their heads.

Strike looked angrily towards Shane. Even though he wasn't Shane's mentor, he still had full authority to scold his little brother. Which he took advantage of, snagging his shoulder. "You need to take this seriously. If you're not the traitor, your tactic shouldn't be to kill everybody to figure out who is."

"Hey, I usually get him, don't I."

"No, all you're doing is helping your enemy. Take this seriously, or we'll have you discharged." Strike growled at him, shoving Shane away.

Shane rubbed his sore shoulder. "Damn, lighten up."

"We're supposed to be training." Vincent commented, stepping up next to him. "You have to know how to build up trust among your allies. If you can't rely on your friends, who can you trust?"

Shane rubbed at the impending bruise, on his stomach, his face darkening a bit. "Yea, I get it. I'm just having a hard time really getting into this kind of sleuthing."

"Well, it's part of the job." Ren stated plainly, holding out the hat for their next round. "Get used to it." Their names were on the back of each slip of paper, for their designated role. Once they had their assignments, both returned their names to the hat.

"Alright, last round today. You get five minutes to assume your positions." Ren called, as the three seniors filed out to the observation deck.

Vincent clapped his friend, on the shoulder. "Just try to remain open, while still keeping your guard up, until you know who you can trust." Shane turned his eyes to the ground, looking an odd mixture of frustrated and embarrassed. "Yea, sure. I'll just do that."

Vincent sighed, squeezing his shoulder. "You'll get it."

There was a small wash station to get the excess paint off his shirt, and they headed over towards it. Shane scoffed. "Or I'll get discharged again."

"Come on now, don't think like that. You have to stay positive." Shane had been admitted to the Turks twice before, but had been discharged during training. He just never seemed to get the hang of the subtle nuance of being a Turk, but they let him back in... that had to say something. "Well, look at it this way." The two set to work cleaning off the excess paint. "You can't get kicked out again." Clear signs of Vincent spending far too much time with Shane emerged as he flashed him a smirking puppy dog pout. "I'll miss you too much."

At least that got Shane to laugh. "Yea, what would you do without me?" He chimed, smacking Vincent on the back, right on the large welt, from the last round. Vincent cringed, falling over the wash-bin.

Shane winced in sympathy. "Oops."

"Yes." Vincent turned a scathing look up at him. "What would I ever do without you?"

xXx

After they had cleaned up, the six rookies spread out along the training area. It was one of three large training areas set up over fifty square feet, with four levels to explore. They'd been through this arena many times, and knew almost every nook to hide in.

Vincent settled into a small room on the third level, crouching into a corner. He was a traitor, this round, and his allie was Galadriel Reinhart. She was a short statured girl with a dark-brown pixy haircut. Gal did, at times, seem a bit slow on the uptake, but she was very good at surprising people. She was also the first of Shane's victims last session. Vincent had only been the traitor twice before, and never got much contact with her. He had to find her, confirm their alliance, and start to take out the others without getting their attention. This was gonna be an interesting round.

The bell rang to signify the start of the round, but Vincent waited. He never liked to just run out into the open, even when he was innocent. Soon, however, Shane ran into his room, and found him. Vincent instantly, got to his feet, holding his gun on him. "Don't you dare shoot me."

"Are you innocent?"

"What do you think?"

Shane scoffed, lowering his gun a bit. "Man, I'm no good at this. Why does it always come to us nearly shooting each other?"

"Because you always seek me out."

Shane nodded his head in agreement. "Yea, can't deny that one."

Vincent could just go ahead and kill him so easily, but he didn't want to tip his hand that soon. He didn't hear anybody nearby, but that didn't mean anything. Plus, there was something that had occurred to him a few rounds back. Shane had never been the terrorist, and Vincent was thinking there was a reason for this. Their seniors may want to keep Shane innocent until he got the hang of this exercise. Who was he to deny his friend a valuable learning experience. He also knew that Shane never expected him of being the traitor. "I'm going to leave." Vincent started slowly moving towards the door. "Don't you dare shoot me."

"Aw, but it's fun."

Vincent smirked. "If you shoot me, you don't get to play my Atari."

"Aw, bitch."

"I mean it. Find another victim." Vincent slid out the room, and made his way down the hall. He was pretty good at inspecting his surroundings before going out into anywhere he could possibly get hit. He managed to make it onto the second level without seeing anyone.

"What're you sneaking around for, Valentine?"

Vincent spun around, turning his gun on Terry. It wasn't uncommon for someone to be a traitor twice in a row. So, if Vincent was innocent, he could still suspect Terry of being a traitor. "Just trying to make sure you don't shoot me in the back again."

"You should stop turning your back on me then."

Vincent had to nod to that one. "I probably should. It's not good practice. A man could easily get killed with that-"

They heard a soft pew and Terry screamed as his ear exploded in a mass of red paint. "Ow, shit!" His hand snapped to his ear, falling against the wall.

"Ooh." Vincent flung himself against the wall, trying to take cover. "Are you alright, Terry?"

"God, that fucking hurt!"

There was a small laughter coming from somewhere off in the distance. "I am so sorry." Although, that didn't stop her from laughing. It was one of those things that was just so bad you just couldn't help but laugh at it.

Vincent calmed down slightly. It was Galadriel. At least he knew he wasn't going to get shot. "Maybe you should sit this one out." Typically, when shot, you were supposed to just lay there, and be dead, but this might need some tending to.

"Fuck. I'm already dead." Terry started out towards the door, calling out to everyone that he was dead, and not to shoot him.

Vincent sighed. "Man, Galadriel. Did you have to hit him in the ear?" He was mainly talking to the air, since she was hiding somewhere sniping.

"It was an accident."

"Well, just watch out from now on. You could deafen someone like that."

"Sorry." She was still having some trouble stopping her giggles.

Vincent rolled his eyes and proceeded through the arena. After a short time he discovered Eryn and Omid were in one of the smaller rooms. Evidently, they had decided they both were trustworthy, and joined forces. There was another entrance out of the room, and they were both facing away from him. Omid turned around, making Vincent duck back behind the corner. Omid's dark eyes scanned the area. "You hear something?"

"No, did you?"

"I think so. Let me check it out."

Vincent's eyes narrowed, backing up to take cover behind a nitch, in the wall. He could hear the footsteps coming around the corner, pressing himself flat against the wall. Omid was probably using his gun to scan the area. "All clear." His footsteps tapped against the floor, turning around to head back. Now was best. Vincent whipped out the side and shot Omid in the arm. He grunted, his hand snapping to the red stain, and fell against the wall. "It's V-" Before he could alert his current partner, Vincent nailed him again, in the chest. He couldn't rat him out, if he was dead. Omid seemed to realize this, with his exclamation of annoyance.

Not waiting for Eryn to find out who killed him, Vincent spun around and ran. He found shelter in a small offshoot, a few corridors away; Eryn ran right past.

Soon, there was a light sound of an air gun going off, somewhere off in the distance. He couldn't get a confirmed hit on anyone, from this location. That shot could have hit or missed. No telling who fired it.

After a short while, Vincent swept from the room, and through the halls. He had to get a more defensible position.

"I took out your little helper."

Vincent froze, hearing Shane's voice coming out of somewhere. He looked around and found him on a balcony above him, aiming right for him. They both stood, guns trained on each other, as he walked around the low slope to get to his level. "So, it was you, all along."

Vincent mustered up an evil smirk. "So it seems."

"I thought you were my friend. How could you betray me?"

Vincent was trying very hard not to laugh. His friend did have a flair for the dramatics. "You've just annoyed me too many times."

"Ouch. So, what now? Are you just gonna shoot me?"

Vincent cocked his gun. "Yea, I just might. GAH!" He felt a bullet nail him in the lower back, knocking him to his knees. Vincent reached a hand onto the red splotch. "Ahh, in the back, again." He felt the barrel of one of the guns press against his head, and glanced up to see Eryn. She smiled down at him. "Bang. You're dead."

Vincent huffed, sitting on the ground.

"Alright!" Shane cried, as the two victors high-fived.

"We won!"

A bell rang the end of the round. The other two filed out; Omid sporting two bright red patches, and Galadriel had a spot in the center of her chest. She smiled at Vincent, idly poking the red paint. "He got me Vinny poo."

Vincent laughed. "Yea, he did."

Strike clapped Shane on the shoulder. "Better. See what happens when you apply yourself."

"Eh, it's too much thinking for me."

Strike smirked, ruffling his baby brother's hair. "Just keep it up. Maybe you'll make it this time." He knew it was a low blow to keep reminding him of this past issue, but he also didn't want Shane to forget that this was pretty much his last chance. Plus, it was a good motivator. Even if he wasn't his mentor, it was still his job to help his baby brother succeed. On that note. "You almost got 'em all, Vincent." Strike beamed throwing an arm around his actual charge. The impact jarred the large welts now impacting every inch of his back, and Vincent whimpered.

Strike's expression showed an almost sarcastic note of concern. "You alright?"

Vincent groaned, holding a hand to his lower bruise. "I hate being shot in the back."

Ren stepped up, laughing lightly. "I'll have to remember that, for our individual training."

"Please don't."

Ren shrugged. "It's better for you."

"Yea." Strike agreed, hauling off and whacking Vincent across the back. Unlike his brother, he fully intended for it to hurt. "Pain's a good character builder. Especially if it's somewhere you hate."

Vincent had to take a second to lodge his bugging eyes back into place. "What if I said I hate it because it's cowardice and underhanded?"

"If that's the case then we definitely need to get you used to it... cause it's gonna happen a lot." Strike beamed, pulling him into a one armed hug."

"Or at least teach you how to avoid it." Ren chimed in with a near evil smirk. "It's for your own good."

Vincent sighed miserably. How many times had he heard that one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, it's like this, I have everything I intend to write out in this already in my head. (At least the important points) So, some times, when I'm writing other stories, I will mention these characters and forget that my readers don't know anything about them. With that in mind, I jumped back to this in the context of me continuing in Forgiveness and it kinda being parallel to their training. I just wanted to have the characters appearance and actions more impactful. (Also, I keep forgetting how much I love Strike and Ren.) I'll probably submit the next chapter of this, before I post forgiveness, mainly because I didn't get to showcase Omid as much as I wanted to, but this is told primarily from Vincent's perspective and Vinny didn't get too much exposure to him in this time.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I'm gonna try to keep these in order, but some topics interest me more than others, so it might not happen.


End file.
